- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Three Steps Behind and Stumbling
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Damned if I know
what goes where and why
and how to weld words together,
to make deep trenches
bleed and black rocks cry,
like titans do, like the paths
on which I stumble.
Legs too short to stretch to footsteps,
breath too short to catch up
to their zen diamond
pens, to paper cut words
and ink formations stuck
like tattoos to paper and mind.
Damned if I know
what goes where and why,
and how to make my spark of muse
glow a little longer
than the time it takes for me
to exhale its heat.
- COMMENTS
Bill Dadaover 17 years agoI agree. I often spend so much time trying to fan the spark of muse that I forget what the hell it is I was going to write.
LeBrozover 17 years agoThe muse knows
But she's not speaking
Just snickering as she lets dribble
Inspiration enough to constitute
Torture.
